


The Art of Insinuation

by tamlane



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Cross-Generation Relationship, F/M, Infidelity, Older Woman/Younger Man, Seduction, Teasing, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 19:02:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamlane/pseuds/tamlane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Al might have been young and somewhat inexperienced, but he knew a blatant offer when he heard one.  And this was a blatant offer… wasn’t it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Insinuation

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a part of my [Art of Seduction Challenge](http://tamlane.livejournal.com/251017.html). Thanks to [lightofdaye](http://lightofdaye.livejournal.com/) for cheerleading. Huge thanks go out to I., my incomparable beta. (June 2013)
> 
> Prompt: _"There is too little mystery in the world; too many people say exactly what they feel or want. We yearn for something enigmatic, for something to feed our fantasies." ~ Robert Greene_

James Potter had a penchant for gate-crashing lame parties. By his reasoning, the lamer the party, the greater the chance there would only be one or two pretty girls present, and they would be so bored that they would likely do _anything_ for a pleasant distraction. James prided himself on his ability to provide distraction.

Al Potter, who was not a fan of parties to begin with, rarely accompanied his brother on these missions. But the party in question was a political fundraiser at the Greengrass Estate, and Al might have had a bit of a crush on Daphne Greengrass Higgs’ daughter, Sophie. And this might have been why he felt compelled to put on his best hunter green dress robes and overlook the fact that James used the Confundus Charm on the house elf at the door.

Unfortunately, Sophie Higgs was nowhere to be found. Nearly everyone at the party appeared to be too old to chew their own food. The champagne was watered down. Al’s robes were making him itch. And James had immediately snagged the only hot girl in attendance and secreted her away behind a plant on the patio. Not that Al would have had the nerve to approach her, anyway, but his brother could have shown a little solidarity, for Circe’s sake, instead of leaving Al to the considerable task of looking awkward.

To make matters worse, Ernie MacMillan kept trying to catch Al’s eye. Al didn’t know why Ernie would want to talk to him, but he knew he didn’t want it to happen. So he pretended to admire a huge antique vase and hoped Ernie would find another victim to subject to his bluster.

"Albus, old boy!" 

No such luck. Ernie gave him an obligatory slap on the back, grinning from ear to ear, while Al wondered why anyone in their right mind would willingly use the salutation _old boy_.

"How’re your parents, then?" Ernie asked, predictably. "Keeping busy, I bet?"

Al smiled tightly. "Yes, they’re very well, thank you."

"I say! I haven’t seen you in, what, three years?" Ernie stepped back and took a long, theatrical look at Al. "My, how you’ve grown. You are the spitting image of your father."

Al was unbelievably bored already.

"Gave my Mindy a run for her Galleons in Potions, too, from what I hear," Ernie went on, completely oblivious to Al’s utter lack of interest in having a conversation with him.

 _Everyone_ had given Mindy MacMillan a run for her Galleons in Potions. She was still melting cauldrons in their N.E.W.T. year. "She, er… certainly could hold her own in Herbology, though," Al replied, wanting to be nice. That was, after all, primarily what distinguished him from his brother.

"Ah, that she could!" Ernie beamed. "Accepted as an apprentice to Neville Longbottom, I’m sure you heard. Her mother and I are quite proud." He cleared his throat and leaned in slightly. "But I’m not here to solicit compliments on my daughter’s knack with plants. I pride myself on being a direct sort of bloke, so I’ll get straight to the point." He paused, eyes scanning Al’s face, and then whispered, "I know what you’re up to."

Al winced slightly, glancing around the ballroom. It was a little embarrassing to be caught gate-crashing, though he wasn’t quite sure how Ernie MacMillan could know he hadn’t been invited. "Er… you do?"

"Yes, and I understand where you’re coming from." Ernie put his hand on Al’s shoulder, perhaps to emphasize his understanding. "You’re young. Bored. In search of adventure and intrigue. And you think no one notices these little indiscretions."

Al shrugged Ernie’s hand off as politely as he could. "Obviously that’s not the case, since you’ve caught me red-handed."

"Well, maybe not red-handed!" Ernie exclaimed with a nervous chuckle. "That would be quite embarrassing for everyone involved, wouldn’t it?"

Yes, it would. Al’s first instinct was to slink away, grab James, and get the hell out of there. But he was also a little miffed. What business was it of Ernie MacMillan’s, really?

"Now, don’t get me wrong," Ernie continued. "I’m not trying to moralize here." He puffed himself up importantly. "I, personally, would never consider it, no matter how tempting it is sometimes. But I won’t lie. I’ve had the same urges. I think we all do."

"Uh- _huh_ ," Al said, trying to imagine Ernie MacMillan gate-crashing anything. Or wanting to. "Look, it was all my brother’s idea, to be honest. It’s not really my thing."

Ernie looked marginally relieved. "Ah. So it was probably just a bet, then? Or maybe a dare?"

"Not exactly. I mean, yes, he might have pushed me a little. He usually does. But you can’t blame him. I suppose I wouldn’t get out much otherwise."

At that, Ernie’s jaw dropped. "My dear boy. There’s ‘not getting out much’, and then there’s this." His eyes narrowed. "Surely you see the difference?"

Al shifted uncomfortably. "Er… has someone said something? Should we leave?" When Ernie didn’t answer right away, Al went on, "I know it’s not exactly polite behavior. But I did see Scorpius earlier, and I’m pretty sure he knows about it, and he didn’t seem to mind. All right, so he sneered at me, but that’s not necessarily unusual." 

"He doesn’t mind?" Ernie exclaimed, loudly enough that a nearby dancing couple gave him a curious look. "Then he obviously doesn’t know! And I suggest you keep it that way and go no further."

"Oh, please," Al said, now feeling a little put out at being reprimanded so harshly for something so minor. "It’s not like Scorpius Malfoy has never done the same thing."

Ernie’s eyes bulged. "I should hope he has not!" He looked around again, as though realizing how loud he had gotten, and then turned back to Al with a very grim expression. "I must say, your flippant attitude is troubling. Think about it. What if it were _your_ mother?"

Al blinked. His family didn’t really host parties. They were guests of honor at other people’s parties. But he had a hard time believing his mother would make a big deal if someone showed up to a Potter party uninvited. Even if that person was Scorpius Malfoy, though if Scorpius stumbled into a Potter or Weasley party, everyone would most likely assume he was lost.

Ernie continued to look deeply disturbed. 

"Excuse me, Mr. MacMillan," Al said patiently, "but I’m not sure I know what you mean."

"What do you think I mean?" Ernie huffed.

"I don’t know," Al replied honestly. "What are you talking about?"

For a moment, Ernie’s mouth moved uselessly. Then he took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, and whispered, "I’m talking about this… this… _flirtation_ you’ve got going with Astoria Malfoy."

Al just stared at Ernie. He didn’t think he had ever spoken to Astoria Malfoy in his life. She was a beautiful woman, sure, and plenty of men probably did flirt with her. But bloody hell, she was Scorpius’s _mother_.

"You’re surprised I know about it, I see," Ernie said, needlessly adjusting the front of his robes. "You must remember that people tend to trust me. Confide in me." His chin went up. "I’ve been told I have a kindly face that way."

Al continued to stare, speechless. He almost looked inside the enormous vase to see if someone was hiding in it, chuckling over what was obviously a set-up of some sort. Or a grave misunderstanding, at the very least.

"Anyway, flirting is one thing," Ernie continued importantly. "But please tell me you’re not really thinking of acting on it?"

"I…" For a brief moment, Al actually considered that. He had always wanted to be with an older woman. But still. _Scorpius’s mother._ "No, I most certainly am not going to act on anything." He scratched at the back of his neck. "And who, might I ask, informed you of my—" The word was so strange that he almost couldn’t get it out. "—flirtation?"

"Why, Mrs. Malfoy, of course!"

Stunned, Al craned his neck until he located Mrs. Malfoy across the room. Her eyes widened, and then she turned away quickly. This was too weird. What on earth was going on here? Was this Mrs. Malfoy’s very twisted way of getting his attention or something? More strangely: why did she _want_ his attention? Al froze. Maybe this was her way of summoning him so she could politely ask him to leave. Except that would be really screwed up. Then again, she _was_ a Malfoy.

"I daresay you’ve made her quite uncomfortable, lad," Ernie added, "mooning over her as you have. And then showing up here tonight unexpectedly. There’s no telling what she thinks you’re up to."

"I see," Al said. "Well. It was certainly not my intention to make Mrs. Malfoy uncomfortable." He felt his face heat, though he couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or something less well-defined. He was a little annoyed, truth be told. He didn’t ‘moon’ over anyone. "In fact, perhaps I should go apologize." 

Ernie studied him carefully. "Well… if you think you can control yourself."

Al tossed back the rest of his champagne and set the empty glass on a nearby table. "That shouldn’t be an issue."

* * *

Al paused halfway across the ballroom, his heart thumping. What exactly was he supposed to say when he approached Mrs. Malfoy? ‘I hear you’ve been telling people I’m flirting with you’? If it had been anyone but Ernie MacMillan, he would have sworn James was playing a joke on him. But Ernie was so forthright.

Sheer bewilderment propelled Al forward.

As he drew nearer, he realized that Mrs. Malfoy was deep in conversation with an ancient witch in numerous bejeweled shawls. He wondered if it would be rude to interrupt her. He raked a hand through his messy hair. This was one reason he hated parties so much. He never knew exactly how to maneuver. James was a natural, but it had never come easily to Al. 

Taking a deep breath, he closed the last remaining distance between them. But before he had a chance to open his mouth, Mrs. Malfoy turned to him, smiling, and clutched him by the upper arm. "Mr. Potter!" she exclaimed breathlessly. "I expect you’ve come to collect that dance you requested earlier?"

Al was momentarily taken back. She wanted to dance? All right. He knew how to dance, and if dancing would get him answers, he would dance. "How did you guess?" he deadpanned, holding out a sweaty hand.

She begged the pardon of the shawl-covered witch and allowed Al to pull her into a waltz. "I apologize for that necessary bit of subterfuge," she whispered, her eyes darting around the room. "I needed to get your attention."

"You’ve got it," Al said.

Mrs. Malfoy glanced up at him almost shyly. Her eyes were royal blue. Ravenclaw blue. Her pale blonde hair had led him to imagine they would be grey. He was surprised.

"You must forgive women these little games," she purred, smoothing a small hand over his shoulder. "After all, I couldn’t just walk up and ask you to dance, could I? That would look very strange indeed. And I knew Ernie would be discreet."

Al felt his nostrils flare. "Yeah, the only problem is, Ernie now thinks I’m mooning over a married woman." He kindly omitted the mention that she was also old enough to be his mother.

Mrs. Malfoy laughed merrily at this, a light, tinkling sound. "Perish the thought, eh?" 

Al swallowed nervously. What did she mean by that? This was surreal. He was dancing with Scorpius’s mother. Her necklace caught his eye: a delicate chain with a diamond-studded serpent pendant. The tail of the serpent curled down, coming to a point right above her breasts. Oh shite. He was looking at her breasts. His eyes snapped up. "Er…" He swallowed again. "…and why exactly did you want to dance with me?"

She smiled at him. "Who wouldn’t?"

All right, now she was just trying to flatter him. "What do you want?" he blurted out.

Her head jerked in surprise. "What do you think I want?"

"I don’t know. Are you trying to make your husband jealous? Is that it?" Al glanced around the ballroom but didn’t see Draco Malfoy anywhere. "Where is he, anyway?"

Mrs. Malfoy’s jaw momentarily tightened, her eyes flashing. "Not here," she said, her expression just as quickly cool.

Al didn’t know what to say to that. He felt sorry for mentioning Mr. Malfoy. Then he just felt more awkward than ever. He hoped the song would be over soon.

"But I’m glad _you’re_ here," Mrs. Malfoy said softly.

Al looked down to see her giving him that shy look again. It made him want to come clean. "Yeah, about that—"

"It’s all right. I know you weren’t invited." She gave him a mischievous grin. "I have to admire that kind of bravado. Not that I would expect anything less of Harry’s Potter’s son, of course."

"Of course not," said Al with a heavy sigh. He fought to keep from rolling his eyes.

"Don’t be cross with me. I meant it as a compliment." Mrs. Malfoy kept playing with the curly bit of his hair under his right ear. It sent chill bumps down Al’s spine and made it somewhat difficult to concentrate. "I know you’re not your father, Albus."

She said his name very gently, and Al softened at the sound of it, unconsciously pulling her a little closer. She smelled wonderful. No one in his family wore perfume like _that_. "It’s not that I’m not proud to be Harry Potter’s son," Al said. He could appreciate the privileges it had afforded him.

"I understand," she whispered soothingly, and it seemed that she really did. Or maybe he really wanted her to. "It must grow tiring, wearing his face. Being expected to live up to such a noble name."

That made Al wonder what it was like to carry the Malfoy name. After all, ‘Malfoy’ was synonymous with ‘slimy coward’ in his family. 

"I think you’re far nicer-looking than him, though."

At that, Al did roll his eyes. "Well, yeah," he said. "Dad’s old."

When Mrs. Malfoy chuckled, he immediately realized his error.

"I didn’t mean! Damn." He blew out a heavy breath. "You don’t look like you’re in your forties." Was that even worse? "Blimey. Help?"

She moved even closer, until they were practically embracing. Al suddenly realized how amazing she felt against him. She was slim in a way that girls his age weren’t, yet deliciously curvy as well. Merlin, he hoped he wasn’t going to start getting hard. He wasn’t used to dancing like this. He wasn’t really used to having his hand resting against the small of a woman’s back, and Mrs. Malfoy’s back was bare. He let the very tips of his fingers dip just slightly beneath the edge of her dress, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

"I hope I don’t _move_ like I’m in my forties, either," she suggested.

Al squinted. He was starting to get the feeling that Mrs. Malfoy was flirting with him. But that was silly, right? "No, you don’t."

"And you don’t move like you’re eighteen."

Fuck, that did it. He was starting to get hard. There was no controlling it. He tried to pull back a bit, but she held onto him firmly. Al looked around, but no one seemed to be paying much attention to them. Most everyone else was dancing as well. "My mother made us take lessons when we were younger," Al said, trying to keep the conversation on neutral ground. "She said we would thank her eventually."

"And have you?"

"Have I what? Thanked her?"

Mrs. Malfoy nodded once.

Al smiled faintly, feeling a blush creep across his cheeks. "No, I guess I never got around to it."

Mrs. Malfoy’s eyelids drooped. Was that… was she giving him _bedroom eyes_? Or was he imagining that? She ran the pad of her thumb in circles over his earlobe. "Perhaps _I_ should thank her instead," she said with a smirk. 

Al bet that would go over really well.

"You know," Mrs. Malfoy continued, "you really are more handsome than your father." Her gaze flittered over the features of his face. "You have a more elegant jawline." She dropped her voice. "Fuller lips."

Al licked his lips unconsciously. Her eyes followed the motion. Bloody hell, he was getting so hard. If she wasn’t flirting with him, then he wasn’t sure what this was all about. She kind of looked like she wanted to eat him up. Not that he would necessarily object to that. He let his fingertips slip a little further under her dress. He could just barely feel the upper curve of her arse. His heart pounded furiously.

"You carry yourself with more reserve," she went on, her thumb stroking up and down his jawline. He really had no clue what she was talking about. "More refinement. And you’re _not_ as noble. I can tell."

Al’s thoughts certainly were not noble at the moment. He let his gaze drift over her substantial cleavage. He wondered what she would look like with her hair down. He wondered if she was wearing anything under her dress. It didn’t feel like it. He briefly entertained the fantasy of raking that slinky dress up over her hips and going for it right there in the middle of the ballroom.

Mrs. Malfoy dragged a fingernail over his bottom lip. She dropped her chin, looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes. "In fact, I’ll bet you could be downright devious if you wanted to."

All right, Al might have been young and somewhat inexperienced, but that sounded like a blatant offer to him. The question was: what was he supposed to do about it? He stared down at her lips. She wet them. In invitation? He wondered what would happen if he kissed her, right here. He knew he couldn’t do it, definitely not in front of all the guests. But he had to wonder. Unconsciously, he leaned down, his gaze narrowing to her slightly parted lips. 

Mrs. Malfoy immediately went rigid. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

"What?" Al’s mind was foggy. "I don’t… I mean, weren’t you…?"

She clenched her jaw. "Wasn’t I _what_?"

Al blinked. Surely that hadn’t all been in his head. He let her go entirely, shoving a hand through his hair. "Well, it seemed like you were coming onto me, to be frank."

Color rose in her pale cheeks. "So you thought you could try to kiss me?"

"What? No. I’m sorry," Al said helplessly, his blood still racing. He really wished they could either keep dancing or get off the floor. They were the only people not moving.

Mrs. Malfoy seemed to take no notice of this. "Next I suppose you’d be groping my arse, is that it? Asking me to meet you in a coat room?"

"No, I—"

"Or maybe you were hoping for a private tour of the renowned Greengrass Conservatory, is that it?"

Al stared at her, perplexed. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out if that was supposed to be a reprimand or an offer. "What?" His eyes narrowed. "No, that’s—"

"Oh, I’ve got it!" she interrupted him. "You thought we might slip away for a rendezvous in my old childhood bedroom."

The thought had obviously never occurred to Al, but now that she mentioned it, he could just see it. He could imagine them sneaking away, giggling, to her old bedroom, maybe still decorated with pink and lace and dolls. She seemed like the pink lace doll type. Al could just imagine taking her on her childhood bed, both of them trying to be quiet as he shagged her silly. It was almost like she mentioned it solely to tease him, but at the same time, she looked so insulted.

"Well, I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me," she said cooly. "I might flirt on occasion. I see nothing wrong with that. It's harmless. But I’m not some kind of…" She paused, as though searching for a vile enough word. "…wanton hussy."

At that, she whirled around to leave, and Al could do nothing but stand there half-hard, feeling like a complete fool.

* * *

Al wanted nothing more than to Disapparate home, have a wank, and go to bed early. He doubted James would mind. James probably wouldn’t even notice. Still, Al didn’t want to run off without letting James know.

He stepped out onto the patio, looking for his brother. James and the hot girl were no longer flirting behind the plant, but Al thought he saw suspicious movement in the nearby bushes — that couldn’t be comfortable. At the same time, the thought of making out with a girl in the bushes made Al realize that he was still painfully hard.

That’s when he decided he would just go take care of his problem and then return to drinking champagne. He kind of liked the idea of tossing one off in the loo at Scorpius’s grandparents’ house. It would make a great story to tell his grandsons someday, if nothing else.

Al strode back through the ballroom and out into the long, richly adorned hallway. A house elf stood a short distance down the hall. "Loo?" Al asked the elf, pointing to the door behind him. The elf squeaked an affirmation and then, strangely, scampered away down the hall. It wasn’t like Al had a lot of experience with house elves, but wasn’t he supposed to stick around in case the guests needed anything?

Shrugging it off, Al entered the loo and closed and locked the door behind him. He immediately reached into his robes and pulled out his cock. He knew he would have to be quick. He leaned over the sink and closed his eyes and licked his lips, remembering the feel of Mrs. Malfoy’s body against his. 

She was undoubtedly mental, and she might be Scorpius’s mother, but Al bet she looked damn fine naked. He bet she really knew how to work a cock, too. Not like the girls he’d been with (okay, the _girl_ he’d been with), who was just as nervous and scared as he was and had kept asking him every twenty seconds if he was close. The way Mrs. Malfoy had said the word ‘devious,’ Al bet she would be the type of go for _anything_ , and though Al didn’t have a lot of experience, he had a good imagination.

Sweet Circe, he could just imagine slipping his hard cock between her lips. He bet she would take it all the way down to the base, rolling his balls gently in her small hand as she licked and sucked and bobbed up and down on him. He bet she’d let him fuck her mouth, and he might even do it, if he had the chance. It was even possible — and Al shuddered to think about it, his hand working furiously — that she would get on all fours and let him take her from behind. And if she did, _fucking hell_ , he would hammer away at her cunt like there was no tomorrow… he’d grab her hips and thrust, and she’d be screaming for him, begging him to fuck her harder… he was so, so close….

"Albus?"

Al froze at the female voice on the other side of the door, his hand still on his cock. Was that her? "Yeah?" he said, his voice squeaking embarrassingly.

There was a pause. "It’s me. Astoria."

Al considered that maybe she knew what he was doing and had come to help finish him off. Yes, it was a ridiculous thought, but she hadn’t exactly caught him at his most reasonable. His heart thudded wildly in his chest, his breath still ragged from being so close to coming. "What do you want?" he panted.

"I wanted to apologize. Can you…. Will you please come out of there?"

Al leaned against the counter with one shaky arm and dragged his other hand over his sweaty face. What the hell was wrong with this woman? "How did you know I was in here?"

"The house elf," she answered meekly.

With a muttered curse, Al tucked himself back in and turned on the tap, washing his hands and splashing some cool water on his cheeks. "All right," he called out, "just gimme a minute." He thought he heard her laughing as he dried off, checking his reflection. He looked… well, he looked every bit as jumpy as he felt.

He opened the door to find Mrs. Malfoy leaning in the doorway, looking contrite. Her bottom lip poked out slightly. "Please don’t be angry with me," she said. "I’m sorry I stormed off like that. I can see how my behavior might have misled you."

 _You think?_ Al wanted to say. But he was a polite sort of bloke, so he settled for a glare.

She gave him a coy smile. Then she lifted her hand, toying with the front of his robes. He looked down, horrified to realize he’d left two buttons undone. His face went up in flames, but Mrs. Malfoy fastened the buttons without comment, her hand lingering.

"Perhaps you _would_ like to see the conservatory?" she suggested.

Al said nothing.

Mrs. Malfoy shrugged, her hand smoothing up his chest. "I know this party is terribly boring. And the conservatory really is a marvelous place." She glanced up at him from under her eyelashes. "And we’d have it all to ourselves."

What the fuck. Was this the same woman who had just blown him off? Was he totally misreading her, or did it sound like she wanted to get him alone for very non-tour-related purposes? "Are you sure that’s a good idea?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Don’t be silly. I’m sure you can control your raging hormones long enough to look at some plants."

Al probably should have been offended by that, but he _had_ just been wanking in her loo. "Is that what you want, then?" Al asked, trying to eliminate any doubt. "For me to control myself?"

She cocked her head to the side. "What else could I possibly want?" 

Merlin, this woman refused to give him a straight answer. He knew he didn’t want another outburst like before. He pulled away from her touch. But he couldn’t help being curious, and he couldn’t help but feel like she wanted him, as unlikely as that seemed. "Yeah, okay," he agreed. "Let’s go, then."

* * *

The conservatory truly was a marvelous place, filled from corner to corner with all kinds of plants, both traditional and magical. There were long tables of strong-smelling herbs, all in richly decorated pots. There were exotic hothouse blooms and cacti and carnivorous plants of all sorts. There were plants that looked nothing like plants at all. There were potted bushes that occasionally shook off their leaves, only to regrow them a few minutes later. There were tulips that giggled and vines that grew and tangled in the moonlight streaming in through the glass walls and ceiling.

Mrs. Malfoy closed and locked the French doors and pulled the curtains over them. "Just in case," she whispered to him.

Al stuffed his hands in his pockets nervously. What did she mean by that? Did she mean just in case he decided to _not_ control himself? She was giving him the bedroom eyes again. Al's stomach lurched.

Then, just as quickly, Mrs. Malfoy's expression became light-hearted, almost childlike. She paced backwards down one of the aisles, running her fingers lightly over foliage as she went. "So what do you think?"

"It's amazing," Al replied, following her. He searched for a better word than 'amazing,' but everything that came to mind sounded equally trite. He inhaled deeply, smelling the rich perfume of flowers and the musky scent of soil. "It smells wonderful in here."

"Doesn't it? This place is my father's pride and joy. Some of the plants here are one-of-a-kind." She rounded a corner, putting a table between them. They paced leisurely up either side of it. "Some of them are powerful aphrodisiacs," she said with a smile.

As soon as she spoke the words, a heady scent filled Al's nostrils. It was sweet like a lily, but with a faint trace of… well, to be frank, it smelled like pussy. Mrs. Malfoy chuckled, and Al felt himself blush, glad of the relative darkness.

"Tell me something, Albus." She rounded another corner, and Al followed mindlessly. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

Al dropped his gaze to something that looked like a carnation. He ran his fingers over it, only to discover a moment later that they were stuck to the bloom. "Er…"

"Tickle it," Mrs. Malfoy suggested.

"Pardon?"

"Act like you're tickling the petals, and it will let you go."

Al did, and it worked. "Weird," he whispered.

She grinned. "Are you dodging my question?"

"No!" He laughed nervously. "Not _no, I don't have a girlfriend_. I mean, _no, I'm not dodging your question_. I just…" He sighed. "All right, no, I don't have a girlfriend at the moment."

Mrs. Malfoy lifted one eyebrow but said nothing.

"To tell the truth," he said quietly, "I was hoping to run into Sophie tonight." He bit his lip, avoiding Mrs. Malfoy's eye.

"Sophie?" she exclaimed. "My niece?" Then she broke out into laughter.

Al looked up, wondering what was so funny about that. Was there something wrong with Sophie? Or did Mrs. Malfoy think he wasn't good enough for her? "Is she, you know… seeing anyone, then?"

"Oh, Sophie's seeing _several_ people," Mrs. Malfoy replied. "A month. She's just like my sister. Daphne never could keep her knickers on, either."

Al's jaw tightened at the thought. He knew she'd never really had a steady boyfriend, but he'd assumed it was because she was choosy. Maybe even a little shy, like him. He never would have guessed she was banging blokes left and right behind the scenes. And even though he was attracted to her, the idea of that was off-putting.

"But I shouldn't speak of my family that way," Mrs. Malfoy apologized quickly. "Please forgive me. Sophie is a lovely girl. She's probably just going through a phase. She certainly has a promising future as a Healer." She gave him a sly smile. "Shall I put in a good word for you?"

"Sure," Al said noncommittally, trying to contain his disappointment. They paced in silence for a few moments.

"I never was one to fool around much," Mrs. Malfoy said. "Can you believe that I was a virgin when I got married?"

"Yeah," Al said, figuring that was just how Purebloods did things back then.

"Most people can't." She sounded slightly affronted.

Al shrugged. "You seem like a proper sort of witch." And she did. Well, other than the fact that she was constantly making suggestive remarks and was currently locked in a conservatory with a bloke the same age as her son.

"I'm not sure that's a compliment," she said, but she was smirking when Al looked up. She cleared her throat. "Anyway, what a mistake that was. If I'd known then that my future husband—" She broke off.

"That your future husband what?" Al prodded, curious. Was Mr. Malfoy a total dud in the sack, he wondered?

"Nothing!" she replied. "Never mind." 

They walked in silence for a minute until they reached a long, wide table at the back of the conservatory, which seemed to serve as storage for a mishmash of plants that didn't fit in elsewhere. Mrs. Malfoy once again put the table between them and slowly strolled up the narrow aisle between table and glass wall. Al followed on the opposite side, his senses overwhelmed with the scents of exotic blooms. 

"You know," she said softly, "when I was a teenager, I always fantasized about making love in here."

Al could see why. It was a sensual place. He had to wonder if she had brought him here for that purpose, despite her protestations. His eyes again followed the line of her pendant, down to her breasts. Her nipples were taut beneath the shimmery fabric of her dress. "Did you really?"

"Yes. My father was very strict with us. He never let us go out with boys. Daphne snuck and did it anyway, but I was good. Still… I cherished the thought of going behind his back, right here among all of his precious plants."

"And what—" Al's voice caught. He tried again. "What happened in your fantasies?" He had never been so bold, but he got the feeling that Mrs. Malfoy wanted to tell him. And he wanted to hear it. And besides, there was no harm in talking.

She stopped walking and looked at him over the rows of plants between them. Al stopped, too, holding his breath. "All kinds of things," she said. "But I can't tell you about that. It wouldn't be appropriate."

For a moment neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the rustle of leaves and the occasional giggle of the magical tulips. Al wondered if he should press her. Her expression was unreadable. "It's okay," he said at last. "You can tell me." He paused. "I won't tell anyone."

"No, I shouldn't." Mrs. Malfoy curled her finger around and around the delicate tendril of a vine. "It's too dirty."

Al's heart rate picked up. He had always wanted to hear what a woman fantasized about. He couldn't imagine it was as dirty as some of his own fantasies. "Tell me."

She laughed dismissively. "We should get back to the party."

But Al could tell that she didn't really want to do that. "Please," he whispered.

Mrs. Malfoy looked up, their gazes locking. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to give you the highlights," she conceded. She paused, rubbing at a spot of dirt on one of the pots. "I used to fantasize that I was in here, minding my own business, watering the plants…."

"That's a good start," Al encouraged her. 

"And then…" She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before continuing. "…someone would sneak up on me from behind. And he'd grab me around the waist. And he would…."

"What?"

Her eyes met his again. "He'd put his other hand over my mouth so I couldn’t scream."

Oh shite, it was one of _those_ fantasies. Al had a few of those himself, though he would never admit it to anyone: holding a woman down, having his way with her. It was wrong. He was a nice sort of bloke. He shouldn't want something like that. But he instantly felt himself start to get hard at the thought of it.

"He would whisper in my ear," Mrs. Malfoy went on. "He'd tell me that he knew I wanted it, that there was no point in fighting."

Al flattened his palms on the table and leaned over a plant that resembled an African violet but gave off a faint phosphorescent glow. " _Did_ you want it?"

"Yes, I did," she said. "Very much."

Al swallowed. Was this her way of saying she wanted _him_ , even though she kept saying the opposite? "Then what?"

Mrs. Malfoy leaned over the table, too, in a way that pushed her breasts together. Al tried not to focus on them. "He would keep his hand clamped over my mouth, but with his other hand he would grab handfuls of my dress, pulling it up over my hips. Until finally my bare arse was pressed back against him. And I… I wouldn't be wearing knickers."

Al couldn't believe she was actually telling him this. His mind was spinning. He wondered if Mrs. Malfoy was hinting that she wasn't wearing knickers _now_. He thought about their dance, about dipping his fingertips beneath the low cut of her dress, and how all he'd felt was bare skin. He could just imagine the bare skin of her bum, pressed against his front, against his hard cock. And he was pretty hard now. He wet his lips. "Go on."

"He would comment on that, of course." Her voice had dropped. Al had to lean even further across the table to hear her. "He'd want to know what kind of girl went around without knickers on. And I would be ashamed, but I'd be turned on, too." She paused. "He would ask me if I was wet."

Al wondered if she was wet now. "Well?" he asked quietly. "Would you be…wet?"

Mrs. Malfoy gave him a faint smile. "I'd be so wet for him," she purred. "But I wouldn’t be able to tell him that, with his hand over my mouth. All I would be able to do is moan, and he would chuckle in my ear at that. He'd tell me to be good and stand still, and he was going to find out for himself."

Al was very glad for the potted plant in front of him because he was sure he was tenting his robes most conspicuously. He waited, on edge. Mrs. Malfoy's eyes gleamed. Al could tell she was getting into the fantasy as much as he was. But she didn't go on.

"Well?" Al said, after what seemed like a long time.

"Well what?"

Al couldn't help huffing. "What would he do then?"

Mrs. Malfoy dropped her gaze once again to the vine in front of her. "I'm embarrassed," she said. "I can't believe I've told you this much. You must think I'm unforgivably brazen."

"No!" Al exclaimed, hearing the desperation in his own voice. "No, I don't," he tried again, more smoothly. "Tell me more. Please. Would he touch you… there?"

She looked up from under her eyelashes. "Yes," she whispered. "Very slowly, he'd slide his hand between my legs. And he would just barely touch me. It would drive me crazy. I'd want nothing more than to buck forward against his hand. I'd want so badly to feel his fingers… to feel them inside me."

"You like that?" Al whispered, desperately wishing he could touch himself. Or touch her. "You like to be teased?"

"Yes," Mrs. Malfoy hissed. "And he'd tell me that if I wanted more, I'd have to… I'd have to beg for it."

Al's hips jerked at the thought. He realized that he would love to make Mrs. Malfoy beg him to touch her. He even thought maybe he'd like to tie her up so that she _couldn't_ resist, so that she'd have no choice but to let him tease her. Were those types of thoughts normal? 

Mrs. Malfoy pushed back from the table and started making her way down the aisle again. Al followed, wishing there was no table between them. "And I would," she said. "I'd beg him to touch me. And he would, but never enough to make me come. He wouldn't let me come."

Al could just see her on the edge, breathless, her face flushed, begging to come. They were getting closer and closer to the end of the table. He was sure now that Mrs. Malfoy wanted him. Why else would she be telling him all of this? His blood raced. 

A wicked smile lit up Mrs. Malfoy's face. "He'd tell me that if I wanted to come, I'd have to take his cock. He'd tell me I was going to have to bend over the table so he could fuck me, deep and hard." 

"Bloody hell," Al panted. He could imagine bending her over the table, right here, her dress bunched up around her waist as he pounded into her….

"I know I shouldn't want to get fucked," she continued. "That's not what good girls should want. But I did." There was a throaty quality to her voice now, which Al thought extremely sexy. "I wanted it so bad."

It was a plea, it had to be. She was saying she wanted _him_. She had to be. And Al wanted to give it to her, too, just like that. They kept walking, faster now. Soon there would be no table between them. Soon he could pull her into a kiss, if he dared. He was starting to think he'd be a fool not to. "Did he give it to you?" Al asked breathlessly.

"Oh yes," she whispered. "He didn't give me time to catch my breath before he was thrusting inside me, and he was so big that I cried out, and he told me to be quiet or we'd get caught…"

Mrs. Malfoy stopped walking. Al didn't. He rounded the corner, approaching her, his heart thumping in his ears — from nerves or from lust, he couldn't tell.

"I didn't want to get caught." She spoke quickly, almost as though she was afraid. "But I didn't want to be quiet—"

Al took her head in his hands and crushed his mouth against hers, tasting champagne. She immediately opened to him, and _fuck_. This was really happening. She grabbed at his robes as though she wanted to rip them off of him, not that he would have minded in the least. He wanted to devour her. He wanted to lift her onto the table and lick and suck every inch of her body, but he didn't want to stop kissing her.

Groaning into the kiss, Al molded his body against hers. He couldn't touch everything he wanted to touch quickly enough. He palmed her breast, squeezing gently, fingers teasing her hard nipple. His hand moved down her side, over her hip, around to her back, where he finally slid it beneath the edge of her dress. She _wasn't_ wearing knickers, and it enflamed Al even further. With a muffled growl, he grabbed at her dress, pulling and bunching it up….

Mrs. Malfoy shoved him away so hard he went stumbling backwards. "What are you doing?!" she demanded. Her voice sounded hysterical.

Al stuffed his hands into his hair. "Are you crazy?" he bellowed. "What did you think would happen, with you talking to me like that? You've got me so turned on, I'm about to lose my mind."

"But you must control yourself!" she insisted. "We can't do this, especially not here!"

"But I thought that's why—"

"I didn't bring you here to grope me!" she practically snarled.

Al almost felt like he could cry. Why was this woman so mercilessly toying with him? "I thought you wanted this," Al gritted.

Mrs. Malfoy let out a long, slow sigh. "Please don't be angry with me, Albus," she said softly, and once again, the sound of his name spoken so gently made Al's shoulders droop in resignation. "You are a tempting man, and if that kiss is any indication, I know you could show me a very good time indeed."

She sounded like she really meant that. She said it almost regretfully. Despite his frustration, Al couldn't help feeling a little proud. 

"But I'm a married woman."

"But your husband isn't making you happy," Al pointed out, trying to control the whinging edge to his voice. "You practically said as much." 

She took one of his hands in hers, softly caressing his palm with her thumb. "Come on, let's get back to the party," she said.

Al had no choice but to yield to her wishes.

* * *

As they made their way back through the large manor, it seemed to Al that Mrs. Malfoy was walking very slowly on purpose. Furthermore, he was quite sure that they were not taking the most direct route back to the ballroom. Was this another game? he wondered. Where was she taking him, really?

"And here we have my great-great-grandfather's collection of ninth-century suits of armor," Mrs. Malfoy said as they strolled down a long hallway lined with gleaming metal shells of warriors. "See that one on the right that's leaning over all funny-like? He used to be propped on a shield, but Daphne and I absconded with it one winter and used it as a makeshift sled."

Al laughed politely, though he was quite ready for this 'tour' to be finished. Greengrass Manor was admittedly a spectacular place filled with interesting artifacts. But he was still quite aroused and frustrated and wanted nothing more than to get home and take care of that. He almost wondered if Mrs. Malfoy was maliciously prolonging his agony.

She sighed dramatically. "Albus, I must say I am very glad that you showed up here uninvited tonight."

Al felt himself blushing. Did she have to remind him of his transgression? It almost made him wonder if her shenanigans were some type of twisted payback. "It's not something I normally do," he defended himself. "I meant no disrespect."

Mrs. Malfoy gently squeezed his shoulder. "None taken." 

That was another thing. She kept touching him. A pat on the back here, an excited arm-grab there. At one point she had even linked her arm through his as they walked. He wouldn't have thought twice about it before, but now that he knew how soft her skin was under that dress, and how she arched instinctively against him when he kissed her, those small touches were very distracting.

"After all," she continued, "if you hadn't been so daring, we would have never had such a lovely evening together."

Al's mind raced, trying to figure out what she meant. Was she referring to the daring he had shown by gate-crashing… or the daring he had shown in the conservatory?

"You _have_ enjoyed it, I hope?" she asked.

"Oh yes," Al replied without hesitation. As frustrated as he currently was, he was sure that the memory of this night would serve for excellent future wanking material.

"I'm so glad. Only…" Mrs. Malfoy stopped walking, twisting her hands in front of her and giving him a hesitant look.

"Only what?" Al nudged, his heart rate picking up once again.

"Well, it's just…" She gave him that shy look once again. "It really _is_ too bad that you didn't get a chance to see my old bedroom. It's quite lovely."

At the word 'bedroom', Al was immediately hard again. He ran one hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. "Let's go there," he suggested quietly, feeling it was worth a shot. She was the one who mentioned it, after all. "Take me there now."

Mrs. Malfoy bit her lip as though in thought. "I wish I could. But…" She lifted her hand, toying with one of the buttons on his dress robes. "I'm afraid the temptation would prove too great."

Al noticed that she didn't say _for whom_ the temptation would prove too great. Was she implying that she found him completely incapable of self-control? Or was she hinting that she wanted him so badly that _she_ wouldn't be able to resist? "Please," he whispered. "I… I won't be tempted."

"Are you sure?" she asked. Was Al just imagining it, or did she almost sound disappointed?

"I'm sure," Al practically panted. "Not that you're not tempting!" he quickly amended. Then, with a low groan, he added, "Bloody hell, you're tempting."

"You're too kind." She gave him a sly smile. "You never would have looked twice at me before tonight."

"My mistake entirely, believe me," Al responded honestly.

Mrs. Malfoy moved her hand up to his neck, playing with the errant strands of hair beneath his ear, just as she had done when they were dancing. Al found himself lifting his hand unconsciously to touch her face and had to play it off by scratching his nose.

"No, it's best if we go back to the party, I suppose," she said. "You know, Sophie might even be there by now. She shows up late to these things from time to time." She smirked. "I might even be able to arrange for you to be alone with her."

Al had never imagined he could care less about Sophie Higgs. She seemed absolutely silly to him now. "No," he whispered. Mrs. Malfoy ran her fingers over his earlobe, and Al grabbed her wrist to stop her. "I want to see your old bedroom. Please show it to me."

She paused, her gaze moving all over his face. "All right," she said at last.

Al felt his blood burn with anticipation, with need.

She licked her lips. "But you have to promise to be good."

Al nodded, registering that there was a big difference between promising to behave and promising to be good, and that Mrs. Malfoy had not specifically asked for the former. "I'll be good," he assured her breathlessly. "I promise."

She walked to the very next door and opened it. "It's right here," she whispered, her eyes gleaming.

Al's heart hammered against his ribs, his throat dry. He couldn't think of any reason why Mrs. Malfoy would show him her old bedroom, unless she wanted to be in her old bed with him. He followed her into the complete darkness of the room.

"Watch your step," she said, but she didn't move to light any lamps.

Al heard the soft sound of the door being closed. In the darkness, he could feel the heat of her body so close to him.

"Ready?" she asked.

Al shook with anticipation. Ready for what? Was she about to jump on him? "Ready," he replied.

And with that, hundreds of candles bathed the room in a warm, yellowing glow. Al felt that he could not take in all he was seeing quickly enough. The room was like something out of a myth. 

There were gold-tasseled rugs… there was heavy, ornately carved cherry furniture… an enormous four-poster bed, draped in layer upon layer of sheer fabrics. The molding that ran along the ceiling was carved into cornucopias and cherubs. And mirrors. The headboard of the bed was paneled in mirrors, and Al's breath caught as he imagined taking Mrs. Malfoy on that big bed, under all of that floaty silk, watching in the mirrors as he plunged into her tight heat over and over again….

Overwhelmed, promise entirely forgotten, Al backed her against the door in one quick motion, caging her in with his body. Her eyes had an almost maniacal gleam in them, and he knew this was it. He knew the game had all been leading to this, and that she wanted him, and that she would give in to him. He knew that she wanted to be taken. 

He flattened his palms against the door on either side of her head, leaning into her. "Mrs. Malfoy?" he whispered. "Those things you fantasized about? I want to do all of them to you, right now."

She stared up at him, half trapped animal and half victorious goddess. Al couldn’t figure out which he found more exciting. Maybe both, maybe the combination.

He swallowed, willing his voice to be steady. "There's no use fighting anymore."

Mrs. Malfoy raised one hand, and Al acted instinctively, thinking she might be moving to push him away. He locked his fingers around her small wrist, pinning her hand back against the door. "No use fighting," he repeated with a slight shake of his head.

She moved her fingers the best she could within his grasp, sliding the lock on the door into place as she whispered — maybe in defeat, maybe in triumph — " _If you insist._ "

_The End_


End file.
